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Because that is what it is.
It has thrown itself at the stage, a big, dark, hulking figure. It has clawed hands, and red eyes glitter from its face.
The elf servants jump into action, trying to restrain it.
Why is the monster coming for the stage?
The thought comes to me distractedly. Because I have seen my chance.
GO! NOW!
I slip away from the elves, who are too focused on subduing the beast. I don’t care any longer that I am barefoot and bleeding.
But I am not fast enough. Because a dark elf shifts out of the darkness as I run past. He grabs me. He must have been waiting for me.
“You’re all mine,” he grins down at me. “And I don’t even have to pay for you. You will be a nice treat that I keep chained to my bed.”
My blood is cold, and I am shivering in his grip.
It is over. I know it is. Dark elves have magic. He will probably disappear with me now.
But someone disagrees.
The growl is low and rumbling and darker than the nighttime.
It is unnatural and the elf hisses.
“Beast.” The word slips from his lips in a whistle and he shoves me behind him.
The monster faces us, and slowly, four long, thick tendrils stretch from his back.
The elf doesn’t wait but summons a staff and throws magic at it. The beast avoids the magic effortlessly.
He growls again, leaping forward. The elf creates a dark forcefield around us. The beast bounces off it, but doesn’t fall.
Our eyes meet. Both his red eyes close and open slowly. As though he is trying to communicate with me.
The elf throws spell after spell at him, swiftly, brutally. The beast is hurt several times but continues forward.
He is relentless, using his arms, legs, claws, and tentacles to fight.
I realize, when he avoids clawing at me when the elf shoves me in front of him, that the beast is trying to help me.
But why?
